it all started with medicare

in california, where I live, there’s that covered ca insurance thing - until it’s decimated by the powers that be. no matter. I choose to not go to doctors. I don’t jive with all that pharmacopeia, nor do i opt for surgical slice and dice, or mystery drugs with never ending side effects - not the same sides you get in restaurants, mind you …side of fries, side of tots, side of slaw. drug side effects? they can overpower the main dish, and kill ya.

then I turned 65. turning that is, 3 days after xmas. this evil deed was bestowed upon my unsuspecting new born self, because 3 days after xmas found everyone in my family crawling through personal armageddons or alcoholic comas from all manner of holiday shenanigans. understandably, not one human was interested in celebrating a tiny tots birthday, with just 3 days to regroup for the upcoming New Years eve debacle.

so, yeah. do not get born on 12/28.

the issue for me is - it’s too late. it’s in the books. done. solid. and medicare knows that, and kept sending me letters I didn’t open, until I did. those letters said I had to sign up for medicare or be penalized. is that a threat? it felt like a threat. a financial threat, but a threat none the less.

hashtag #65

i did not plan this well, this whole aging thing. I mean, my brain got stuck somewhere between the ages of 16 and 17, and the meter hasn’t budged much since.

I think young. I act young. I still wear shorts. Some people, who won’t be named, (you know who you are), think I’m waaaay too old to wear shorts! My butt, by the way, my bootie, that is in said shorts, is tiny. I do not have a big bootie. At this stage of the game, I suppose that will have to suffice. It’s not like I’m really impressing anyone anymore. As I said, this age thing is a brand new dimension. Ready, set, go! Get me in the zone…just not that twilight one.